


all i want for christmas is you

by dorothymcshane



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:39:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorothymcshane/pseuds/dorothymcshane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara and Twelve’s first Christmas together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all i want for christmas is you

**Author's Note:**

> Yeaaah, I know it’s October, but I wanted to write something fluffy and I really like Christmas, so here we go.

It’s Christmas Eve and Clara has persuaded the Doctor to join her for her last minute Christmas shopping. He complains about everything from how crowded the stores are to how annoying the Christmas music playing in them is, but Clara can see his eyes twinkle with enthusiasm.

   “Okay, now I only need something for my grandmother, and then we should be done,” she tells him after she’s picked out a box of chocolate for her friend Nina.

   The Doctor bites his lip, nervously looking around himself. “I think I’ll go to the bookstore across the street, instead, if that’s okay?”

   “You aren’t going to sneak off to the TARDIS and leave me here alone, are you? Because I thought we’d share a cab back home to my flat and have our own early Christmas dinner …”

   “I’m not!” he says, a second too soon. “I promise.”

   Clara eyes him suspiciously, but at last she nods, feeling like he’s worth a moment alone, after having spent the whole day together with her. “I’ll see you outside, then.”

   He gives her a quiet laugh before turning his back to her and crossing the floor of the department store. “I’m really not going to abandon you, Clara.”

   “Yeah,” she whispers to herself, before tucking the chocolate box under one of her arms and walking towards the electronics department. She already knows what to get her grandmother, and it doesn’t take long for her to find the box with the latest season of her favourite television show. Her grandmother is completely addicted to television, especially to costume dramas with “lots of pretty young men in them”.

   The queue at the checkout counter is ridiculously long, but eventually Clara reaches the cashier and gets to pay for her gifts.

   It’s freezing outside, and it’s started snowing while Clara’s been in the department store. She shivers and wraps her scarf closer around her neck.

   That’s when she sees the Doctor. He’s more handsome than she’s ever seen him, standing there, across the street, surrounded by stressed out people and Christmas lights, smiling at her through the falling snow.

   She forgets all about the cold and runs across the street, throwing her arms around him, bags with Christmas gifts still in her hands.

   “Long time, no see,” he says, obviously sarcastic, but still smiling.

   “I missed you,” she mumbles against his chest.

   “Merry Christmas,” he tells her, taking a couple of steps back, reaching her a gift wrapped in dark red paper.

   “You … you got me a Christmas gift?”

   “You’re my best friend,” he says, the words falling off his tongue as easily as if he was pointing out that it’s snowing. “Of course I did. But don’t open it until tomorrow.”

   She holds the gift against her chest, without knowing what to say, because even though she’s been rushing around the whole day, looking for gifts for people she barely ever talks to, the thought of getting the person that means the most in the entire world to her anything hasn’t even crossed her mind. “Thank you.”

   “So, should we get a cab?” he asks her, blushing, if she’s not mistaken.

 

 

Back at Clara’s flat, they order Chinese food from a restaurant in her neighbourhood and then share the portions with each other while cuddled up on her sofa, watching one of the Christmas movies that are shown on repeat on every television channel during this time of the year. Clara wishes all Christmas dinners would be like this, without any fights between her grandmother and her step-mother, without any stress and without having to pretend that the either undercooked or burnt turkey tastes absolutely fine.  

   “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” Clara finds herself asking the Doctor, looking up at his face from where she’s leaning her head against one of his shoulders.

   “Well, I’m supposed to have dinner with Marilyn Monroe,” he tells her, staring at the television screen, his gaze absent-minded. “On the other hand, I think she’s expecting to be joined by my younger self. It would probably be best not to go so that I don’t have to explain why I suddenly look completely different to her. Also, she’s been planning our wedding, and I’m not sure about whether it really would be a good idea to get married to her. And, yeah, I’ve got an invitation to this Christmas themed ball on Klechton, but that planet’s usually pretty dull, so I think I’ll skip it.”

   “So … no plans?” Clara says, hiding the smile that’s spread across her face behind one of her hands. She loves it when this version of the Doctor rambles, maybe because it’s in those moments that it’s the most obvious that he’s still the same man as the one she first met.

   “Something will most probably turn up,” he says. “It usually does. And if not, I’ll be more than happy to have a quiet night alone somewhere. There’s this wonderful restaurant on Vollotha which I’ve been meaning to … yeah, I’ll probably go there.”

   “No one should be alone on Christmas,” Clara says. “Join my family for our Christmas dinner. I’ll introduce you as my boyfriend, as long as you don’t turn up naked again.”

   “No, no, I really can’t …”

   “That wasn’t a question.”

   “But what about our age difference?” the Doctor asks her, and she stiffens for a second, as it’s the first time she’s ever heard him mention it. She’d even started to think that he really wasn’t aware of it, but obviously, he is.

    “I’ve always been into older men,” Clara finally says with a shrug. “I don’t think anyone will be surprised.”

   “Really?” he asks her, and now he’s turned his gaze away from the television and is looking straight at her, his dim blue eyes wide.

   She bites her bottom lip, for once completely at a loss for words. “I …”

   “Because you know, when I said that I wasn’t your boyfriend, I didn’t mean that I don’t want to be, I just thought that you … that you wouldn’t want me to be, anymore, now that I don’t look like I used to …”

   “You’re an idiot,” Clara tells him, stroking one hand across one of his cheeks.

   “I know,” he whispers, before he tangles his hands into her hair and pulls her closer to him so that he can press his lips against hers.


End file.
